


call me any, anytime

by codemama



Category: DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Sex Hotline, D/s undertones for some of the calls, Fanart, Illustrated, M/M, Oral Sex, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2146056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codemama/pseuds/codemama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wally is a high school teacher, and thus doomed to a life of decency. So he calls a sex hotline and is connected with Robin, a 20 year old college student.</p><p>They fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you izumikuns@Tumblr for betaing :) 
> 
> drawings are mine (codyart@Tumblr). You can find the coverart&fic post [here](http://codyart.tumblr.com/post/99663810778/call-me-any-any-time-explicit-19k-completed) and any reblogs are greatly appreciated! :D
> 
> If any images are broken, just tell me in a comment or [find me here](https://twitter.com/shortprints). I try to keep on top of them haha I don't know why they break or how to keep them from doing that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for explicit images!

 

[{x}](http://codyart.tumblr.com/post/99663810778/call-me-any-any-time-explicit-19k-completed)

The smack of rubber against pavement pounded rhythmically between Wally’s ears, resounding through his feet and all the way up his body with every step. It wasn’t quite mid-September yet, but leaves had already started falling onto the grounds of West Applemont High School, carpeting the running paths in gold and red, the wind rushing through his hair crisp. This early chill was fine by Wally; he preferred to run when it was on the colder side, when the chill cooled his sweat and his muscles warmed from the inside out. In the dead of summer, Wally would get up just before sunrise to beat the heat.

Unfortunately, Wally’s students did not seem to be in the same frame of mind.

“Pick it up, gentleman!” Wally called behind him. A rather dejected chorus of, “Yes, coach!” sounded, and Wally huffed. “Come on, the faster you run the warmer you’ll be! It’s not even October yet!”

He slowed down a touch, falling back to observe the students. Wally wasn’t worried about the upperclassmen, who headed the crowd of runners with a strong pace, staring straight ahead. That’s what Wally loved best about his varsity runners; always driven, never losing sight of the finish line. The same couldn’t be said of West Applemont’s cross country team’s newest members—yet. Wally scanned, hoping to do some early vetting for new varsity members. He tried not to beam too hard to see his little cousin keeping up with his older teammates. “Pace yourself, Allen!”

Bart turned his head and flashed a breathless smile and a, “Yes, Coach!” increasing his speed a beat. The group turned down the path, headed towards the track before slowing to a walk for the practice’s cool down.

Wally would rather die before letting it show, but he was immensely grateful for the end of practice, exhaustion hitting him without warning. Maybe he should take a leaf out of Coach Lee’s book and drive a golf cart on the runs, but he could never bring himself to turn down a run through the forest trails surrounding the campus. Applemont was an hour and a half outside Gotham, and therefore spared the smog, concrete, and buzz of a sleepless city. Wally still had to take the train up to Gotham U at least three times a week as he worked on his PhD, but he greatly preferred his studio apartment in Applemont to the dorm room he used to share with three other students back at Gotham University.

The commute was still garbage, though. At least in a car, he has something commanding his attention. Train rides made Wally fidgety and hyperactive, and even when he had a decent distraction (most often, test grading or research), he found himself wanting to pace. But he didn’t have much longer now, just one more year and he would leave with his doctorate in hand and the possibility of a job that didn’t include pulling overly zealous kids away from Bunsen burners. He did like most of his students. Most. But if he was honest with himself, he would never be happy in a hum-drum suburb, teaching the same curriculum year after year. That was why he took on the cross country team, to stay busy, moving. Wally thrived on it. Coaching, teaching, and studying were just enough to keep life exciting. Except for the never-being-able-to-socialize part. That part blew. It was surprisingly difficult to be a high school teacher and get a date in a small town. Nobody wanted to hook up with their kid’s/classmate’s/alumni-whatever’s teacher, and after a few nights of going out and being confronted with, “Hey, aren’t you little Susan’s physics teacher?”, Wally gave up altogether.  

Wally dismissed the team to a stretch and the showers, and headed directly to his coach’s office in the locker room. He had a teacher’s office as well, but it was a 4x4 closet in the corner of the science department, so he greatly preferred this one, despite its stench of sweat and gym clothes. Wally was pretty used to sweat and gym clothes, anyway. He flipped the lock on the door and tore off his shirt, crashing in front of his computer. 43 new emails pinged at him, and he dabbed at the sweat dripping down the side of his neck with his tee with a sigh. Most of them were from panicked students wanting to make appointments to meet or asking about assignments and the curriculum. Wally moved them to a separate folder for later, and scrolled through the rest one by one.

 ** _Conner Kent_ ** _< metropolis_kid16@gmail.com>                                                      _

**_  
_**

_Hey, man, just shooting you an email to let you know I broke my phone again so this is the mode of contact for now—_

 

(Wally actually chuckled out loud; Conner was known to smash things when he got mad, and his phone was so frequently a casualty that he dealt exclusively in cheap burners now.)

 

_—and that the garage is closed this weekend cus my boss has a wedding out of town or some shit, so you definitely need to come over. Who knows when I’ll get a weekend off again soon >:[  Lemme know, Megan will be thrilled to have someone willing to eat her cooking for once. I mean. Someone ELSE to eat her cooking for once. Don’t tell her I said that ;p She said she missed seeing you around now that you’re off teaching but I told her you’re too busy molding minds and wearing old hipster-y cardigans now. _

Wally shot off a quick reply that _yes_ , for the love of all that is holy, yes, I need a weekend of nothing but getting hammered, and _no_ , I do not wear hipster-y cardigans, thank you. Really, the last time Wally wore a cardigan, he was four, and it was because his great-aunt knitted it and then forced him into it. All things knit were stifling. So were button downs and ties, but at least they didn’t cause Wally to overheat in the less-than air conditioned facilities at West Applemont High. By the time three rolled around, Wally found himself with his sleeves rolled to the elbows and his tie much looser than it was that morning. He ignored the breathless, nervous way girls would startle and stare in the hallway at this. Wally knew he wasn’t exactly unattractive, and any teacher as young as he (which was _not_ that young, really, he was a respectable 26 years old, which was at least a few years older than the babes in the English department) was bound to be crush fodder for impressionable students. Besides, it wasn’t like anybody else was getting a piece of this. He may as well indulge the stares. The following sigh fell out unhindered, and Wally’s shoulders sagged, relaxing entirely into the worn plush of the old desk chair for a moment.

So maybe 26 wasn’t that respectably old. Wally mulled over the idea of heading a town or two over, crawling out of his skin for contact, touch, heat, and a good fuck, but overruled it. It would still will likely cause a scandal (teacher of school children, seen canoodling in a bar, _gasp!_ ) and going out of town required more grief than Wally had energy for. Being a teacher kind of did suck.

Wally sat back up, cracking his neck and continuing to sift through his inbox. His mom was asking about Thanksgiving ( _It’s like, two months away, Mom, I have no idea what day I’ll be coming or if I can bring the dessert yet_ ), his adviser had sent him the latest notes on his thesis (Wally will get back to that later when his brain wasn’t currently a trembling pile of goo). Spam for free airline tickets. Spam for free fruit baskets. Spam informing Wally that he had just won a cruise, just enter your Social Security number! Spam for—

Wally read the headline twice before he registered that it was for a _phone sex hotline_ , expecting to see a large breasted woman winking and twirling a phone cord, but the only picture was two cartoon-typography phones bracketing the number. He had to give it a little props that a sex hotline used subtlety, of all things, to get people to read. Wally shook his head, already moving onto the next email (Megan linking him to several recipe ideas for this weekend). Stupid email, throwing his unwilling celibacy in his face.

Then he clicked back.

_Do people actually call these things?_

They must, or there wouldn’t be any advertised, right? There were probably people making a living being a phone sex operator. There were probably people who only ever had sex through a phone sex operator. Wally shuddered briefly. _Sad._

Then again, it could be pretty hot, calling a stranger, having them whisper in his ear, bringing him closer and closer…

 _Oh god, oh god,_ sadder _, West, that’s pathetic._

Wally closed out, packed up his paperwork, and headed home.

 

* * *

 

 

When Wally and Conner met, they were both 16. They were both the only sophomores on their respective varsity teams (Wally in cross country, Conner in football) and between Wally’s inclination to geek out and Conner’s general standoffishness, they bonded like only two outcasts could: over many video games, much pizza, and girls they would never have. But then Conner actually got asked out by a bright girl named Megan, and Wally had a brief but memorable, ‘I think I like guys too, _fuck_ ’, crisis, and they figure they adjusted moderately well in the end. A decade later, and after a few breaks that Wally can’t actually be bothered to keep track of, Conner and Megan were still together, and Wally was…well, not with anybody. He couldn’t have called that one; Conner wasn’t exactly suave-debonair. (In the end, Wally wasn’t really either, but he’d be the last to admit it to himself.)

“Wally, make yourself useful. Lord knows you’re going to eat the majority of this anyway,” Megan said with a swat of her spoon to Wally’s bottom. He yelped as he was nudged towards the bag of corn on the counter. “Shuck.”

“Aw, Megs, this is grunt work,” Wally whined, but he smiled brightly. Megan gave him a smugly contented look and set to mixing up the meat for burgers. Once upon a time, he had a crush on her, but she was far too wonderful and Conner was far too happy and Wally got over it fairly quickly. Aside from Conner, she was his best friend, and arguably, a better confidant. It wasn’t just that Megan had a remarkable knack for reading people; Wally and Conner simply weren’t close in that way. Loyal to the ends of the earth, sure, but Wally didn’t talk to him about things like….

Being lonely.

“I don’t want you to like, take this the wrong way,” Wally began, tearing husks off and picking at the silks. “But do you ever regret staying with Conner for so long? Like, only being with one person, never getting way out there, that kind of thing?”

Megan rarely took anything the wrong way. She gave a small, thoughtful shrug. “Not especially. You do remember there was a year or so we broke up, right? I dated some other people. Did some stuff that wasn’t _exactly_ dating,” she chuckled. “Why?”

“I dunno. Fish in the pond aren’t really biting, I guess. I don’t want to settle down, I just want to be with someone, but like…people in this town suck, okay. As soon as they see as teacher in a bar—and for some reason they _all_ know I’m a teacher—they treat me like I have a mild plague. They _refuse_ to see me as a sexually viable being. I’m starting to think I should’ve gotten with someone from college while I had the chance.” Wally threw a freshly shucked corn into the pot with a little more force than necessary, pouting petulantly.

“Ah. So you’re not looking for a date, you just wanna get your rocks off,” Megan laughed, and stopped sympathetically when Wally’s pout turned ever more pitiful.

“It’s not funny! I wanna quit the damn job, it’s not worth it! I’m 26, for fuck’s sake,” he said, starting to pluck off silks like they were each offending him personally. “I’m too young to be sentenced to a life of decency.”

“Well, I would have to agree. It does suck,” Megan said, finishing the patties and bumping Wally’s hip so he'd clear the sink and she could wash her hands. He grunted in agreement, but it was cut short by a loud bang and frustrated yell from the porch. “Oh, Conner is going to flip that grill one day…maybe go help him under the guise of bringing him a beer.”

“Aye-aye, cap,” Wally grinned, pulling two Sierra Nevada’s from the fridge and shouldering open the sliding door. In a perfect world, Conner and Megan would have a beautiful propane grill, and Conner would never have to rage-scream about not being able to light the charcoal ever again. “Here, man.”

Conner glanced up from where he was kneeling, and seeing the beer, he stood with a grumble, reaching for the bottle. He glared at the grill while he twisted the cap off, muttering something about faulty matches. Wally would laugh, if he didn’t think Conner would kick his butt in retaliation. “Why don’t you go grab Megs’ crème brûlée torch?”

Conner nodded, lips tight, and marched inside. To anybody else, Conner might be frighteningly petulant and stoic at turns, but Wally knew it was just Conner’s way. He didn’t as comfortably express himself like other people, wasn’t good at asking for help. Wally rearranged the charcoal, poured the lighter fluid on, and lit the opposite sides with practiced ease before Conner and Megan came out again, without the torch but bearing chips, dip, and another beer for Megan. Conner scoffed when he saw the lit grill. “Show off-y chemistry bastard.” He was noticeably less grumpy now, though, and Wally knew it was because of Megan’s presence, soothing his frustrations and visibly releasing his restraints on himself.

“Oh, Conner,” Megan said, like she remembered something, as they settled into the mismatched soccer chairs that made up their patio furniture. “Wally and I were just talking, and I was wondering if there was anybody from the garage you could hook him up with.”

“You think there’s a surplus of hot, gay mechanics?” Wally said, bemused. Actually, a grease monkey would be just what the doctor ordered.

“Only if you’re looking for a bear,” Conner laughed, and Wally shook his head rigorously, nose wrinkling. Okay, no grease monkeys. No old grease monkeys, anyway.

"How ‘bout hot bakers?” Wally turned to Megan. “Bakers with…hot buns?” He wiggled a brow, but Megan clearly did not think the pun was funny. Shame. Nobody here appreciated a good pun.

“Lots of high school girls, that’s it,” Megan said, and Wally sighed. Definitely not. Megan clapped him on the shoulder. “Perk up, Walls! We’ll go clubbing in the city next weekend or something, ‘kay? Consider it my personal mission to get you laid.”

“I think I’d rather call the sex hotline,” Wally said, swatting her away and laughing.

“Whoa, whoa,” Conner said. “ _The_ sex hotline? As in a sex hotline you already know about and are probably already considering?”

“I’m not considering,” Wally said defensively, brows coming down and together slightly. “I just got it in my spam folder at a time when I was especially _lonely_ , so science tells us that it would stick in my mind, okay?”

“Don’t talk about science and then tell us you open your spam, dude,” Conner said with a critical look. “You’re blushing.”

“So? I always blush.” Wally scrubbed at his cheeks, like he could rub the pink away, like it wouldn’t actually make them pinker.

“Don’t listen to Oscar the Grouch here,” Megan said with a light kick to Conner’s shin. “I think you should call. It’s fun.”

Wally wasn’t sure who started yelling first, him or Conner, but soon the backyard was ringing with “ _Whooooa_ ,”, “ _Yoooo_ ,” “ _WHAT ARE YOU SAYING, HERE, MISS M_?”

Megan plucked primly at her skirt, staring at them with laughter in her eyes, and waiting for them to quiet before she shrugged and said, “I was doing research for a paper on the sex industry. And the first call was free, so.”

Conner blinked like a fish, and Wally just breathed a soft, “Alrighty, then.” The brief silence broke, and then all of a sudden they were giggling and Megan was digging into the chips, dusk settling and the charcoal finally forming hot, glowing coals. Conner was delegated the salad (difficult to screw up) and Wally the beans (slightly less difficult to screw up). Wally packed away three burgers in the next hour, moaning and smacking his lips and resigning himself to sit in one spot ‘til his belly stopped feeling like a basketball. Megan and Conner were certainly used to Wally’s appetite by now, but he outdid himself tonight. Takeout would never be as satisfying as a home-cooked meal, and Wally had lived on takeout for too long. “Megan. That was so _good_.”

Megan hummed happily, and Conner gave her a peck on the cheek in agreement. Wally’s chest tightened, envious and happy and lonely all at once.

 

* * *

 

Wally spent Sunday night grading quizzes and replying to emails from his students (and one from a concerned parent who wondered if they could have practice inside because she was worried about her kid running in the cold—all of Wally’s self-control went into writing a reply that wasn’t condescending). He grabbed a beer after he finished the quizzes from his third period students, sucking it down with gusto. Forget losing a social life. Grading was, hands down, the worst part of the job. Wally was only in his second year of teaching, and he shuddered to think that some people actually made careers out of academia’s equivalent to breaking rocks and watching paint dry. It was boring, and Wally spent more time rolling around on the internet than anything else on these nights.

The email from Intimate Connections was open in a separate tab.

Wally clicked back to it every couple of tests, almost calling once, and chickening out before he even finished typing in the number. It was a little ridiculous. It wasn’t like Wally couldn’t get a date if he really tried…but really trying meant heading out to the clubs in Gotham, which tended to be a mixed bag of violence and disease. Wally shuddered. Nah. No clubbing for him.

This time, Wally typed in the whole number before setting his cell down and contemplating it with folded hands and an uncharacteristically serious face. He was overthinking this, big time, he knew this. It wasn’t like anybody would know or find out, and it could hardly be any more awkward than a one night stand.

Wally hit the green button, knee bouncing in a spastic rhythm, waiting through three rings before someone picked up.

“Intimate Connection Hotlines, this is Jenna! May I connect you to someone or are you a first time caller?”

“Uh-first time caller,” Wally said, the slightest squeak in his voice. “Wait, I have an email coupon here for a, um, free first call—SEXSEXSEX10?”

Wally grimaced. That was just _awful_ , wow.

“Great, I’ll put that in,” Jenna said, and Wally heard some busy typing. Jenna had a slight Boston accent, and Wally’s heart thudded as he realized for the first time that this place might _actually_ be local. The odds of being recognized or recognizing someone was probably pretty low, though, right? “Alright, I just need some information from you to put on file. I assure you, it’s all confidential, we won’t add you to any mailing lists or anything. Just for billing and customer profile purposes, and then I can connect you to someone!”

Wally gave his name (his real name, and he prayed it wouldn’t end up a mistake but it wasn’t like he was going to be a teacher forever), number, and address (“You can put your credit card on file the next time you call.” “Do people often call a second time?” “Oh, yes!...”) and answered questions as to his gender (“Always good to find out for sure what people like to be called,” Jenna explained in response to Wally’s slightly affronted answer) age, and ‘reason for calling’ (“Um—I’m just too busy to really go out lately.”).

“Okay, finally, would you prefer to be connected to a man or a woman?”

Wally paused, pulling a thoughtful face. He liked being with both men and women, but…

“A man,” he decided, and there was a flurry of typing before Jenna spoke again.

“Alright, I’m going to connect you with Robin. He’s in your age bracket and great with first time callers. I think you’ll really hit it off.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Wally said, and some uncertainty must have rang in his voice, because Jenna chuckled.

“Just be natural, he won’t bite. It was a pleasure connecting you, Wally, and have fun.” If winks could be heard, Wally was sure he would have heard a wink. The line clicked, and Wally guzzled down the rest of his beer as it rang. Robin (which was surely a fake name) picked up on the fourth.

“Hello, this is Robin,” he answered, a little breathless, like he had already gotten started, or more than likely just raced to answer the phone. He sounded young, voice pitched a little low. Wally swallowed. He had a nice voice. “What’s your name?”

“Wally,” he said, quickly. “Um, my name’s Wally. I’ve never really…?”

“Done this before? That’s alright. Lots of people haven’t. It’s kind of old school, most people seem to prefer chat rooms these days. Personally,” and Wally heard some rustling, like Robin was sinking into a couch or something, “I like getting vocal. I’ve been told my _oral_ skills are pretty great.”

Wally was surprised by his own laugh, bubbling up without warning. “Dude, that’s awful. Do most people get off to your lame puns?”

“Not to my puns, nah,” Robin said with a cackle that made Wally’s body flush with heat. So, nice voice… _completely_ sexy laugh, full of mirth and genuine humor that made Wally’s nerves start to melt away. “So, Wally. Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

“Oh? Well, um, I’m 26, I teach high school physics and coach cross country but I’m working on my doctorate,” Wally said, slightly relieved that they weren’t jumping right into it. He may be paying by the minute, but Wally always enjoyed this part of it all, the flirting and making a connection. Robin gave a low hum that sounded impressed.

“A catch like you wants to spend Sunday evening booty calling a stranger?”

“Yeah, well. Not a lot of people in this town want to get with the neighborhood kids’ teacher. Plus, thesis and papers and practices, so it’d be hard to pick people up anyway.”

“Such a shame. Tell me what you look like. What you’re wearing,” Robin prompted, his voice dipping lower. Wally’s heart jumped, and sudden heat flared in his core. “You sound sexy, Wally.” Robin gave a sharp exhale, like he was doing the same, touching himself, and Wally bit his lip, the thought that he was turning Robin on as much as he was being turned on making his cheeks heat up. “So?”

“I’m a redhead,” Wally blurted, trying not to think about how weird that sounded, like he was bragging. “Freckles and green eyes everything. Um, really skinny, cus I’m a runner. I’m wearing jeans and a tee shirt.”

It felt so awkward to describe himself, making him feel a little vain and exposed at the same time, but Robin just hummed again, almost a moan, and Wally’s hips jerked. “You sound so sexy. Cute, even,” Robin said, and though he didn’t laugh this time, there was still that tone of mirth. “I bet you’re blushing like crazy right now, huh, redhead?”

Wally made a noise that was definitely not a whine, but was more like a….alright. He whined. And blushed more. Robin cackled, and Wally squeezed himself with a soft moan.

“Mmm, you like that, huh? Ha, okay. We’re going to have fun.”

Wally squirmed. He didn’t often get embarrassed during sex, but he had always been self-conscious of his tell-tale blush. Getting called out on it was almost worse than the fact that doing so turned him on enough to make him lightheaded. Swallowing and laying back on the couch before he asked, the tremble in his voice betraying his arousal and nerves, “What do you look like?”

“Okay,” Robin answered, reassuring. “Well, I have black hair and blue eyes. I’m a gymnast, so I’m _very_ flexible. Would you believe me if I told you I was supposed to be a circus acrobat?”

“Probably not,” Wally said, grinning wide and relaxing again.

“Yeah, probably not. Well, I did, and it shows. I have great muscles. You know. In case you wanted a mental image. Oh, and I’m wearing sweats and a tank top. I might’ve been working out when you called.”

Wally pictured beads of sweat under dark bangs, lithe and powerful limbs in motion. He actually might have gotten lost in the mental picture, of muscles warm and pliant under his hands and intense blue eyes. He imagined Robin pressing him into the mattress, teasing, and powerful. Gymnasts weren’t exceptionally buff compared to runners, he didn’t think, but Robin was probably still stronger than Wally, and the concept was enough for Wally to squeeze himself and give a low sigh. He jumped when Robin’s voice came through the speaker, his voice lower and purposeful.

“Are you touching yourself, Wally?”

Wally exhaled, the breath coming out fast and a little too eager, “Yeah. Over my jeans,” and then, almost like an afterthought, “Picturing those great muscles you spoke of earlier.”

“Take them off. Your jeans,” Robin said, and the urgency in his voice causing Wally’s dick to jerk against his zipper, and then he was tearing the jeans off, boxers and all, kicking them off entirely once they reached his ankles. He wrapped his fingers around the tip of his cock, squeezing with a low moan.

“Jesus. Yeah, banter is fun, but this is…” Wally moaned again, more showy this time, and Robin laughed. Wally decided he really, really liked making Robin laugh. He jerked his cock rough and fast, like he hadn’t in years, like he’d never get the chance again, the rhythmic slap of flesh obscenely loud. He was going, going, gone; there was no way he would last long, and it occurred to him that Robin had been quiet for a couple beats too long. With some concentration, he could hear Robin jacking off through the speaker, panting softly. “Robin…”

“I’m here. Sorry. I think I just broke character. Or something. God, Wally, the things I want to do to you,” Robin moaned. “Slow down. Slow your hand.”

Wally whined, but it was a weak protest. It was not too much of a secret between his past partners (and friends, after a night of partying got a little too ‘TMI’) that he finished quickly, was always in a rush. He was sure this was the first time someone had pushed him to take his time. He slowed down, arching into his fist with a frustrated sigh, more turned on than he can ever remember being.

“There you go, Walls” Robin purred. “Good.”

Okay. _Now_ he was more turned on than he can ever remember being. “Keep talking? Please?”

“What do you think your students would think if they saw their teacher, all desperate and frantic and taking orders from a stranger on the phone? How many do you think would be appalled? How many would become sex hotline operators just in the hope of getting you on the other end of the line?”

God, the _mouth_ on him. An embarrassed flush bloomed on his cheeks, creeping down his chest and Wally was a little grateful Robin couldn’t see just how much that bit of shame showed. The last thing Wally wanted was for Robin to stop, but this thing, whatever this thing was, wouldn’t be as easy if there weren’t a phone between them. It gave Wally a little courage to be vulnerable. That was almost an oxymoron, but Wally didn’t care. He whimpered, fucking into his fist, still slow like Robin asked.

“Knowing you were squirming and close, just from a little dirty talk, just to hear you say please like that. Make you beg, grateful for every bit of attention, every tease and praise. Do you like it when I tease you, Wally?”

“Uh-huh,” Wally panted. “Please.”

“You like when I _praise_ you?”

“Yes,” Wally said, and the edge of a whine in his voice as the answer came without hesitation, his own honesty surprising him, but his cock pulsed and he writhed, too close to manage a filter, too taken with the sound of Robin getting off on the other end of the line. “Please, Rob. Please.”

“If you want praise, you gotta earn it,” Robin said, too breathless to sound truly coy, but the impact was still strong.

“Anything,” Wally said, squeezing on the upstroke, so close but desperate not to come yet, hanging onto Robin’s every word. He didn’t even know the man on the other end of the line, but he knew he really would do just about anything to earn his praise, hear him say his name like Wally was…what? Worthy, good, incredible?

“Then come for me, Walls,” Robin said, and he did, with a sharp moan and hard buck of his hips, stomach jumping as the first streak of come hit and spilled over his fingers. He jerked himself through it, straining with the effort of keeping it slow, until over-stimulation forced him to stop with a whine. He heard Robin hum with appraisal before his breath hitched into a moan. “Goddamn. You’re so good, Wally…damn. That was good. Want to do one last thing for me?”

“Sure,” Wally said, couldn’t help but chuckle, soft and low as he worked to catch his breath. Afterglow was making him feel fuzzy and compliant like he hadn’t felt in months, at best. If Robin asked him to sing the national anthem right now, he’d probably would still agree.

“Lick your cum from your fingers,” Robin said, his voice hitching. “And I want to hear you.”

Wally couldn’t get hard again so quickly, but his cock still twitched in vain, and Wally only just remembered that Robin couldn’t see him and needed to eke out a quick, “’Kay,” before raising his fingers to his lips and sucking. His first moan may have been exaggerated for good measure, but the second was sincere as his own taste clouded on his tongue. He heard Robin mutter a, “Fuck, yes,”, and Wally grinned around his fingers, pulling them out with a pop that Robin would be sure to hear.

“I bet you’d be _fantastic_ at giving head,” Wally said, as casually as if he were giving the time. He hoped the role reversal wasn’t weird—he was positive the client shouldn’t be getting the operator off—but Wally hadn’t gotten to do this in so long, let alone be so _kinky_ about it, and then Robin moaned, the s _chlick_ in the background increasing in tempo. “The dirtiest things come out of that mouth, and I can certainly think of a few other purposes for such a wicked tongue.”

“I’d want you to fuck my mouth,” Robin panted. “I-I’ll let you pull my hair, fuck,” and that did it, Robin came with a strained moan, and then just Robin’s soft panting. “Wally. _Shit_.”

“Yeah,” Wally hummed in agreement. “Shit. Rob, that was kind of incredible.”

“You sound surprised,” Robin said, his voice lazy and low.

“A little, yeah. I wasn’t expecting this to be anything all that great.”

“To be fair, it’s usually nothing of note. It can get really scripted and formulaic. I mean, for me, I rarely get turned on during calls, I get off with a client maybe one in a hundred, I can count on one hand the times—anyway. I don’t usually actually enjoy these calls.”

“You’re bullshitting me,” Wally said, hand moving up to hide his smile, even though Robin wasn’t there to see.

“Not even a little,” Robin said, and there was that cackle again, god. “Obviously, my job is to make people feel good. It’s a rare bonus when someone makes me feel good back. A very nice bonus,” Robin sighed like he was having a good stretch, and Wally once again saw those long, flexible muscles in his mind’s eye. _Mmm_. “Not too shabby, first-time caller.”

“Hey, isn’t this supposed to be about my satisfaction?” Wally teased, pleased when he was rewarded with a lilting cackle.

“Right. Are you satisfied, oh valued customer sir?”

“Very much, thanks.”

There was a beat of a pause, then, “You know, you’d be surprised at how many guys just hang up the second they blow their load. Literally the most awkward thing, and I’ve done some weird shit for callers.”

Wally tamped down the morbid curiosity rising up that begged him to ask what weird shit, because he figured it would open up a whole new world and it was already nearing midnight. He thanked his shoddy spam filter that this call was free, though. Hanging up was kind of the last thing he wanted to do. “Ahh, I see. You’re a traditional guy, appreciates some chit-chat after you’ve spent an evening calling someone ‘daddy’.”

Robin laughed so hard he actually snorted, and fuck, if that wasn’t the cutest thing on earth, Wally actually had to bury his face in his arm, but it was nothing compared to what he said next.

“I wouldn’t even mind it if it was you. If you wanted to me to call you daddy, call me daddy, if you just wanted to talk, I’d do it for you,” Robin said, sounding eager and nervous all at once. Wally’s stomach fluttered, and he felt flushed all over again. It was such a change from the cool hello he’d first heard come out of Robin’s mouth, and Wally felt like he was privy to the unwrapping of some enigma, able to peer through and see the parts that make up whoever Robin was, whoever the eager, nervous, playful, devilish, _wrecked_ voice on the other end belonged to. It all made Wally _want_. “So, yeah, if there’s anything you want to talk about, have at it. This call’s free anyway, right?”

“Well. Right. I liked talking with you, Rob. Among _other_ stuff, and there’s my equivalent to a verbal wink since you can’t see me right now, but I really liked talking to you. Probably too much to treat you like my therapist and dump all my crap on you, because you’re definitely way too hot and nice to have to deal with that and I’m guessing you get that a lot from other people and that’s gotta be awkward. So I’m not going to turn this call into that thing. But I’m definitely going to call again, because this was…I mean, you were…wow. I mean, _wow_.” Wally had a habit of talking too much, too fast, and he never hated it more than he did now. Any image of a cool, sexy redhead was probably slipping away into a dorky, flustered ginger. And people probably did not make this big a deal about calling back a sex line, right?

_But fuck that._

“Anyway, I actually have to get going because it’s late and I have a class to teach at the ass-crack of dawn, but I do want to call you again, so…if I call again...will I get through to you?”

There was a beat of silence, his last uncertain question hanging heavily on the line, and Wally’s heart hammered, for reasons he really didn’t want to investigate, for reasons that went a lot like, ‘He’s being paid so he probably won’t say _no_ , but if he says yes, please, fuck, let him _mean_ it, please let him mean what he _said_ —‘

“Yeah, definitely!” —and Wally’s heart hammered even harder as Robin’s voice picked up, sounding as thrilled as Wally felt— “You have a better chance of catching me in the evenings, though you can always just ask Jenna because she’ll have my hours for the week. I’d really, really like for you to call again, Wally. Really. Gotta be honest, I’ll probably hope it’s you every time I pick up a work call now.”

“Really, huh?” Wally grinned wide, biting his lip like he was scolding himself for it, but he couldn’t be helped. His chest swelled with validation and excitement he couldn’t tamp down.

“Yes, really! Really, really,” Robin said with indignant emphasis. “That was hot. And I mean it, I like talking to you. But I’ll let you go for now. Even hot teachers need their beauty rest.”

Not blushing. Nope.

“’Kay. Night, Robin.”

“Night, Wally.”

 

* * *

 

Wally didn’t get a chance to call again until the following weekend, and after two cross country meets, getting his classes started on their first major project, grading a grand total of 167 tests, and having to reorganize his thesis, Wally was itching to talk to Robin again. He wanted to make him laugh again. He definitely wanted to make him moan again. But when he called, Jenna had told him that Robin was off this weekend, and Wally swallowed his disappointment. Robin was bound to have days off sometimes. He wondered what it was he did, and he racked his brain for hints, but it occurred to Wally that he didn’t know how old Robin was, what he studied, what he wanted to do with his life. He remembered Robin saying he grew up as a circus acrobat, but the way he said it made it sound like it was in a past life.

Monday morning came far too quickly. Wally didn’t typically drink coffee, but he accepted it gratefully when an over-eager TA offered him some in the breakroom. He wondered if Robin drank coffee.

Wally had a class first period, second period, and seventh period. Back when he first started teaching, he though the off-times would be a nice break, but there were days when he didn’t even leave his office, swamped with paperwork, lesson plans, appointments with students, and team management. Every 15 minutes or so, someone would knock with a tentative, “Mr. West…?” and come in with seven thousand questions about what was, for most students, their most difficult subject. So when his lunch hour rolled around, he locked the door to his office, resolutely planning to ignore anyone and everyone who knocked and disturbed his peace.

This time when he called, Jenna patched him through, and Wally’s pants were already growing snug with anticipation, chest fluttering and aching for Robin’s voice.

“Wally,” Robin greeted right away. Jenna must have told him who it was when she patched him in. “Jenna said you called over the weekend, I’m sorry I wasn’t available. My family kind of dragged me on an outing I couldn’t escape from, and I had to call in.”

“Nah, don’t apologize. You have a life outside your job, I’m sure. If only the rest of us were so fortunate,” Wally said with a twisted smile and a glance at the large stack of ungraded quizzes.

“Feeling swamped?”

“You have _no-o_ idea,” Wally said with a remarkably un-masculine whine. “I’m actually calling you from my office right now.”

“Oh?” Robin said, and Wally grinned.

“Yes, _oh_. Man, I’m so glad we’re on the same wave length right now.”

“How long do you have?”

“About half an hour.”

“Are you sitting at a desk?”

Wally hummed in affirmation.

“Okay, untuck yourself from your slacks. Just your cock out, like you can’t even be bothered to romance the situation at hand. This is all _business_.”

“And what’s this situation at hand, exactly?” Wally asked, squeezing his cock at its base with a soft groan.

“Me, kneeling under your desk and sucking you off.”

Wally all but gasped, his cock twitching and he tried to say something, anything, but the sheer _idea_ of it…

“Wally?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Wally gasped. “I think all the blood left my brain in favor of other places. I think that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Wally swore he could hear smugness in Robin’s laugh, but in all fairness, Robin deserved to be smug. Wow. Wally dug around in his desk for the Vaseline he normally kept around to heal the wind-chap he got from running, but the lubrication would speed things along.

“So, I just want to real quickly say that I hope how I handle this is okay and when you call next, if you plan on calling lots more, we can really talk about what you’d like and like for me to do. But onto getting you off.”

(Wally was pretty sure that as long as Robin was on the line, he could be into any kind of handling, but, right. Onto getting off.) “Roger.”

“Ha. Okay, I don’t want you to hold back, just touch yourself how you usually would and I’m going to talk you through it.”

“Okay. For the record, I’m cool with this. Forge ahead,” Wally quipped, tearing his shirt off (no point in risking dirtying it when he didn’t have a spare) and rubbing the slick on the head of his cock, just teasing for the moment. He wasn’t worried about not getting off before the end of his break; that first phone call was a blessing of an anomaly, and Wally was shocked to see the call log at 57 minutes after he hung up.

“I’m kneeling under your desk, and maybe your chair is pulled in so far that you can’t even see me. In fact, if you didn’t blush so much—“ (Wally was in a love-hate relationship with the fact that Robin seemed confident in this fact) ”—nobody would ever know I was under there, running my hands from your ankles, up your calves, your inner thighs. There’s no way you don’t have amazing legs, Wally, all I can think about is how incredible your thighs must be. I could give you a hickey, right on your inner thigh, so you’d feel it while you ran.”

Wally wasn’t sure when he started pumping his cock properly, but at that he moaned quietly. “You must have an oral fixation. Dirty talk. Giving head. _Marking_.”

“I don’t deny it,” Robin said, and Wally was sure he could hear a grin…which was stupid, because you can’t hear grins, but it was _there_ , okay?

“I’d give you a sharp bite there, and you’d probably jump out of your seat at that. Would you show me who’s boss, Wally? Grab my hair and tug so I’d behave?”

“Would you like that?” _Please like that._

“Fuck yeah,” Robin laughed. “And I bet you’re not as bashful as you act, huh?”

“Well, who doesn’t get a bit testy when they’re trying to come. Speaking of which.” Yep, this definitely wouldn’t take long, not with the roll that Robin was on. He picked up the pace anyway, gripping the arm of his desk chair tight.

“Right, right. Well, I learn quickly, I wouldn’t waste any time teasing you, not while your hands were tight in my hair, reminding me of who was in control. I’d take you all in at once, and Wally, I love going down on people, I bet you have a gorgeous cock and I’d suck you down, let you press against the back of my throat ‘til I couldn’t breathe and have to pull off, gasping and licking you wet so you can fuck my mouth properly—“

Wally unsuccessfully bit back a moan, coming onto his stomach with frantically fast motions,

“…Wow.”

“Yeah, bet you thought that would take longer, huh?”

Robin chuckled.

“Shut up,” Wally groaned, reaching for tissues.

“I’m not laughing at you, I swear. It’s pretty hot that you can just let go and get worked up so fast.” Wally tutted, tossing the tissues in the trash and putting the phone on speaker so he could button his shirt back up. Robin’s voice came out tinny through the cheap speakers. “It usually takes me a while to get there, so you could say I’m jealous. Or just turned on. Really turned on.”

“Sorry I can’t stay and help you out,” Wally said, legitimately, painfully sorry. It didn’t matter that he had to eat this month but was instead paying out a buck fifty a minute just to talk to Robin a bit more. “But I have an appointment with a student right after this, so. No risks.”

“That’s okay.” There was something in Robin’s tone, sweet and contemplative, but not for long. “By the way, _hot_. I’m enjoying a mental picture of you battling afterglow while tutoring some student.”

Wally groaned theatrically, but smiled wide when it brought out Robin’s cackle.

“That what you’re going to think about after I hang up?”

“Maybe. Unless you wanna part with a thought that doesn’t include you, embarrassed and blushing like a teenager.”

“Hey, some people get off on that.” _Me! Me, I get off on that_. Even when Wally was just hooking up with someone, there was something about being teased and called a slut that made heat and desperation build quicker than anything else, creeping up on that edge of _too far, too much,_ and Wally would beg for it. Someone once told him that it probably rooted in insecurity, but he figured most kinks had less than sterling roots, anyway.

“Are you some people? ‘Cus I did wonder…”

Wally snorted. “Is it obvious?” _Probably._

“Yep.” Robin sounded chipper and smug. “Time?”

“We have…” Wally tapped his computer awake. “Seven minutes.”

“What’s obvious about me?”

Wally hummed a bit, thinking back and not having to look very far before he came up with an answer. “You’re an exhibitionist with a remarkably obvious oral fixation. And pretty dominant when you’re not begging for your face to be fucked.”

Robin laughed, and it sounded like it came from deep in his chest, so genuine that it made Wally’s chest flutter. This person, this stranger, he was probably going to be the death of Wally. “Among other fuckable things. Okay, Mr. Physics Teacher, other than that I already admitted that I like oral, I require evidence that supports this hypothesis.”

If not his death, then at least the death of his teeth. Robin’s voice could get so coyly-sweet, obviously put on for the sake of the hotline. Wally loved it anyway. “Alright. You seemed pretty psyched to know I’m in my office, you came up with the fantasy of being under my desk. You seem to like the idea of me being all disheveled in front of my students, you like bossing me around, and you seem very keen to suck me off…oh, right. And I bet you really wished you could’ve seen my suck my cum off my fingers.”

“Shit,” Robin breathed. “Yeah, I do. Did. Okay. I _have_ to get off. And you have to get off. The line. I mean.” He chuckled. Wally checked; they had five minutes now. He didn’t care if they pushed it right up to the last second, over, that his student was kept waiting outside.

“We still have time,” Wally insisted, but his stomach flipped and it felt all too much like…like…like kids who didn’t want to hang up, who go, ‘you hang up, no, you hang up.’ He fiddled with the papers on his desk, gnawing his lip. Yeah, it was good while it lasted. ‘Til he messed it up.

“Hey, Wally?” Ah, shit. Yeah, here it comes. The ‘we can’t have any feelings about this’ talk, because Wally was growing ever more attached to Robin’s voice, to the point where he didn’t think he could live with only his voice anymore, because Wally got stupid and started falling for him, but this was Robin’s _job_ , and Wally was paying him. To like him. No, to have sex with him. On the phone.

“Yeah?” God, he was fucked.

“I don’t want to overstep any boundaries here, not that we haven’t been, like, going beyond boundaries already, but I have to try, because…shit. You’re awesome, alright? And I know we live in the same area because I can see your phone number, and I was wondering if…I mean, I understand if this is just a casual transaction of fucking and conversing. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.”

Hearing Robin sound so uncertain was new and weird, and Wally couldn’t help that his face was screwing up with worry, or that his stomach was currently plummeting with the apprehension of Robin telling him off, to never call again. “You won’t.”

 “I want to give you my number. My real number.”

_Holy shit._

“If you want. Like, if you’re interested in talking outside the hotline, or whatever.”

‘If you’re interested in _me_ outside the hotline,’ was unspoken but painfully clear, and Wally’s chest ached for Robin to _know_.

“It’snotjustatransactiontome,” Wally said in a single, rushed breath. “I’m interested. I’m really, really interested. I’m interested in you and I’ve been thinking about you and basically nothing else since that first call, and---shit! Shit, shit. It’s two minutes to one, I have to go. Give me your number _now._ ”

Wally beamed as Robin’s laugh rang through relieved and _happy_. “And, my name. My real name. Robin’s a nickname.”

Wally felt that happiness down to his toes.

“My name’s Dick.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: consumption of alcohol (everyone is consenting), ridiculous portions of cheese. dick's texts are notated with a less than and wally's with a greater than.

If Dick were totally honest with himself, it was probably when Wally laughed at his oral pun.

Or, no. Maybe it was when he called from his office, that was _all_ kinds of filthy and wonderful.

Or maybe it was when Wally didn’t actually give Dick too hard a time when he admitted to wanting to drop out, or when Wally put his little cousins on the phone to say hello, or when Wally picked up the phone despite being on a run and too out of breath to really talk.

So, maybe it wasn’t an _honesty_ thing, and maybe he didn’t have to pin it down, but at one point or another, Dick started to fall. Started to run out of excuses to not get closer to Wally.

“I’ll probably have to stay in the city for the long weekend,” Wally was saying, and Dick could hear what sounded like pots and pans banging on the other end of the line. “I really need to use the school’s library and this is the first weekend where I haven’t been swamped with grading…I think I lent my brownie pan to Megan. Crap.”

Dick chuckled, ignoring the uneasy shifting in his belly that started up every time he was reminded of the fact that he could’ve run into Wally at the university and never know it. He let it slip a week ago, that he went to Gotham U, Wally having already divulged long before then that he was getting his doctorate there. Dick’s breath caught to remember—realize—that there might be days when they’re three people apart in line for coffee, two classrooms away from each other. It made him the best kind of anxious, fluttery and thrilled. It was close, but not too close. Not enough to get caught, for Wally to find out that Dick was only 20, still in school, hardly older than Wally’s own students.

Though, Wally’s students probably didn’t have the ability to manufacture grade-A explosives, or to execute a perfect quadruple somersault, or (almost) had the credentials to run the nation’s leading company in technological research and development.

Course, Dick couldn’t tell Wally that. He’d be one Google search away from finding out his phone sex fuck was Gotham’s favorite young heir. ‘Course, Dick was never sensationalized in the papers as much as he was back when Bruce first took him in. He was a minor, minor public figure; even his relationship with up-and-coming supermodel Kori Anders wasn’t as huge of news, and years ago besides; but he was a public figure none the less. He was lucky Wally never questioned Dick’s acrobat quip enough to Google it. So, it was down to secrets, partial truths.

He’d tell Wally. Eventually. When he was sure Wally wasn’t the type to shy from a little age difference.

“Didn’t you already mix the batter?”

“Yup,” Wally said, his voice dropping low with self-deprecating humor. Dick noticed it doing that a lot, using humor to hide or mend or cope. “I can use the muffin tin, probably. At least that gives me an excuse to slap some frosting on? Yum,” Wally gave an emphatic moan that would have fueled an arousing jolt to Dick’s cock, if it weren’t immediately followed by the screech of metal pans on each other, bursting through the speaker of Dick’s cell. He held it at arm’s length away from his ear with a wince and a grin, only bringing it back when he head Wally’s victorious whoop. “Alright there?”

“Yup,” Wally said again. “Putting the phone down to pour the batter, just a sec.” 

Dick smiled to himself and laid back, stretching and toeing his textbook off his bed when he felt it brush his toe. He gave up all pretenses of doing homework when Wally first called him an hour ago, and now its presence was just insulting. It made the following flutter of pages and dull thud feel pretty satisfying, honestly.

He wondered if Wally was the kind of person to make a big mess when he baked, spilling mix down his front, with batter smeared along his jaw line, or if he was meticulous, mixing and pouring with precise, practiced ease, cooking like it was magic. Dick had a feeling Wally was more on the haphazard side, judging from the banging of pans and frustrated noises Wally was making, and it was terribly endearing. _Crap_.

“Done!” Wally exclaimed, and Dick couldn’t have kept from smiling if his life depended on it.

“Do you bake a lot?”

“No,” Wally laughed. “I mean, I’m a passable cook, but I’m just making these in an attempt to keep Megs from dragging me to the clubs this weekend. She wants me to get laid.”

“What, don’t like getting dolled up to go dance and dodge roofies?” Dick said, dryness curling in his voice as jealousy edged in on the fuzzy, fluttering feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t like Wally didn’t have any right to see other people, since they were probably friends at best right now, just voices on the opposite ends of a line.

“No, that, I like. Well, not the roofies, but the partying, yeah,” Wally said. “I just don’t wanna hook up with some random person.”

Dick’s mind whirred, his fingers flexing where they rested on his comforter. As much as he hated feeling jealous in the first place, he hated more how it dissipated into outright hope; the bright, fond way Wally formed his words, he probably did really like to party, which Dick totally shouldn’t find so endearing as well, but he did; the mental image of Wally getting decked out in tight pants and flimsy shirt, dancing on a neon-lit floor; the specification of person rather than guy or girl (Dick knew he had to have requested a guy on the hotline to get him, but kind of interesting to know Wally swung both ways as well); that, most importantly, flashing like a marquee in his brain, Wally _didn’t want a random hookup_.

“Aren’t I some random person?” Dick said, the timbre of his voice perfectly cool, teasing and easy, though his heart hammered. Test number 1?

The following pause may have been a second or a minute, Dick honestly couldn’t tell because his ears rang, heartbeat in his throat. Really, the sooner he figured out how Wally felt, the better, but that feeling, the uncertainty and thrill, that would probably never leave.

“No,” Wally said at last, with finality.

 _No_.

Just no, no, you’re not some random person, but that could mean anything, that could be, ‘hey, you’re a great bro,’ or ‘hey, we had some great times,’ but would it mean, ‘hey, I don’t want to hook up with a random person ‘cus _you’re_ not random,’?

Dick barely managed to breath out an, “Oh,” in response before there was a shuffle on the other end of the line, and—

“Sorry, Rob, I gotta run. Call you later.”

And the line clicked, leaving it dead, and Dick sat still, his hand drifting down to his lap, phone limp in his hand.

 

* * *

 

 

Artemis was unusually awake and alert when Dick got in from his run the next morning (where he certainly was not wondering if Wally had better times than him). She was settled into one of the artfully mismatched chairs at their kitchen table, a mug of coffee cooling in her hand, scrolling on her phone with the other. She glanced up and nodded quietly in acknowledgment, stifling a yawn. Before nine, they were both fairly quiet, morning people by necessity rather than habit. Dick grabbed a water bottle, perching on the counter to guzzle it down before he whipped up some breakfast for him and Artemis. Ordinarily, breakfast for Dick was something as easy to make as possible; usually cereal and/or fruit, occasionally a bagel that would, on special occasions, even be toasted, but he needed the distraction.

Dick wasn’t exactly a prideful person; any grudge he held was well deserved, and he had a good instinct for shady people, but otherwise, he hoped for the best. He wasn’t too spiteful not to text Wally after an abrupt goodbye, but simply not knowing where he stood, if it was okay to flirt, to tease, kept him from composing a message that remotely felt like anything worthwhile.

Ultimately, it was Wally who texted first this morning, not only easing Dick’s mind but giving him one hell of a case of whiplash.

Wally sent a photo.

_Of himself._

  


 

Dick had frozen entirely, somehow finding his way to a bench and plopping down, just staring at his screen, like he’d never seen anything so wonderful in his life, and maybe he hadn’t, because Wally…

Cheeks flushed from the cold and running, just like Dick had imagined, his hair strawberry red and his mouth big, grinning goofily in an eager selfie featuring a to-go coffee cup that no doubt held pumpkin spice. He had so many freckles, strewn all across his cheeks, nose, and forehead, mottled in the low definition photo. His eyes were green and bright, lashes pale.

If Dick was smitten before, he had no idea what he was now.

 _Gone_. Totally, completely gone.

If they kissed, he’d probably smell like wind and taste like cinnamon.

It wasn’t until the toast started burning from his inattentiveness that Dick thought of a suitable answer to the straight-up _gift_ sitting in Dick’s inbox.

 

**> TIS THE SEASON**

**< selfies? pumpkin lattes? there's a chance you're hanging around teenagers too much ;p**

**< you know, i totally hoped you were gorgeous, but i had no idea how right i was**

Wally had yet to reply, but there was a good chance Wally was in the middle of a breakfast or a run, too, anyway. The thought was, sadly, not logical enough to ease the butterflies in Dick’s stomach. He tried to act casual, despite Artemis not paying any attention at all, still half asleep, when he brought up the picture again. Wally’s hair in the photo was all blown back; it probably fell in his face a bit otherwise. 

Dick practically glowed as he sorted out eggs, bacon, and a pan, pleased beyond belief, relieved, even. Artemis perked up at once at the sound of bacon cracking. “Look at you, so happy to make me breakfast,” she said, her voice a little rough from sleep and terribly smug. Dick just hummed and seasoned, making sure Artemis’ eggs had plenty of chili and turning down the heat on the bacon, thoughts drifting to other things.

“Two papers, both due next Thursday, a lab due tomorrow, four tests on Friday …can I just surrender? Is that a thing? I surrender,” Dick didn’t sigh so much as he remarked, setting plates down on the table and sinking into a chair. Artemis reached for a piece of his bacon, and he kicked her in the shin. “You have your _own_ , jesus.”

“Don’t even talk to me about schoolwork. That’s totally the opposite purpose of the weekend. And why would I eat my own when I can have yours?”

Dick stuck his tongue out at her, in a remarkable display of maturity that warranted an equally mature eye roll from Artemis. “Go make your plate, lazy ass.”

She whacked the back of his head as she passed round the table. Dick pretended it hurt, but Artemis wasn’t fooled, so he set to demolishing his eggs.

To say that third semester was kicking their ass was an understatement; Artemis only went to half her lectures, and Dick had lent his 20th century lit textbook to a classmate who spilled coffee all over hers, and never bothered to get it back. Most of the time they really did try, but some ( _read: most_ ) days, they couldn’t even be bothered. The second Dick figured out he wanted to join the academy, and the second Artemis’ focus shifted from school to getting her EMT license, they stopped worrying about lectures and attendance and homework. They did well enough, anyway, to coast out the rest of the semester without bringing too much shame to their families. So to speak.

Dick’s phone buzzed as he was finishing his bacon, and he shoved the last of it in his mouth, frantically wiping grease off onto a napkin to grab his phone before Artemis did. The fact that he was not-so-secretly texting some mystery person non-stop was making Artemis exceptionally inquisitive, and he would not put it past her to steal his phone and sabotage him for not sharing. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, or didn’t want to gush about his crush (Artemis would just _love_ that, that was half the appeal), but he wasn’t sure how to even begin, considering that the beginning was via Dick’s job at the hotline. There weren’t a lot of cutesy ways to tell that story.

 

**> Oh really? Just for that, I'll forgive the teenager jab xxx**

**> I'm hoping you're pretty gorge as well, but you're probably 50 and have a mountain man beard, so please, no pictures**

**> Keep the fantasy alive ;)**

**< 48 years young, actually, and it's a mustache, not a beard. tickles in all the right places?**

**< Haa! :'D** 

 

It was fortunate that Artemis’ was so focused on making up her plate, because Dick may have actually put his head in his hands, face splitting into a grin wondering how he got so, so lucky. Wally wasn’t expecting a photo back, and Dick’s chest swelled with such fondness, surpassing all relief, at that.

(He was gone. Completely, entirely gone.)

“You know Roy asked me out again on Wednesday? He doesn’t know when to quit,” Artemis said when she sat back down, her plate piled high with obscenely buttery toast and large slices of orange. “I’d say yes if I didn’t find him so annoying.”

Dick cackled. “I thought you liked that guy from your Psych class? The one with the arm tattoos?”

“I do,” Artemis snorted. “But it’s pretty hard to flirt in a class you don’t ever actually go to.”

“True.” Artemis nudged a glass of orange juice his way, and he smiled at her fondly in thanks. Artemis could be a brat, but in the way that your big sister was a brat. Artemis could, and did, lock his head under her arm and screw up his hair, pinch him awake, and steal the best cookie, and Dick would still love her unconditionally. Just so long as he could replace her sugar with salt, steal her favorite books, and best her in video games, and she still love him the same. They looked out for each other, loyal as anyone could be.

Dick had actual brothers—well, not actual, Damian was his half-brother by birth and Tim by adoption, they weren’t all related by blood—and maybe that’s why Dick could just accept that Artemis would always be closer than a best friend, despite only having known each other for a few years. If it weren’t for their differences in appearance, they probably would look like actual siblings to the rest of the world. It just felt natural to be close, like flying off the platform of a trapeze, like applying to the police academy. Like that first time Wally called him, like every time since then.

 

** >So how's Friday fun day?**

**> You should know that my Friday fun day is actually 'oh shit, I need to grade these tests because it's already the weekend'**

**>...day**

**< what a coincidence, my friday fun day is actually, 'shit look at all these papers due, let's ignore them'**

**<...day ;p**

 

“Oh my god, stop giggling, that’s disgusting,” Artemis said, kicking Dick’s foot under the table. “Who are you texting?”

“Nobody.” He kicked her back, repeatedly, just hard enough to be annoying, but stopped when her glare grew from annoyed to menacing. “And I wasn’t giggling.”

“You were, you’re caught up in that little bubble of, ‘omg, texting my crush’. Who is he.” It wasn’t even a question, just a demanding statement paired with narrowed eyes and a nudge of toes. “It can’t be nobody.”

“It’s nobody you know,” Dick said with a final, hard kick to her foot. She yelped and withdrew her feet at last, shooting him arrows with her eyes.

“I don’t get why you’re being so secretive. It’s not like you haven’t had crushes before,” she grumbled, dipping her toast into the yolk. “I mean, you get people off for money you don’t even technically need. This can’t…be worse than…”

She trailed off, mouth parting in a soundless breath of, “No.”

He refused to look at her. There was no way he was getting into this now. Even if it meant sticking his head in the sand and denying the conversation entirely. He busied himself with his cell instead, feigning casual.

“Dick, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Dick said, pretending to focus on anything else, his breakfast, his phone. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, nose slightly raised, a little haughty and defensive.

“Dick Grayson, you look my in the eye right now and tell me that you didn’t meet this guy through work.”

Dick sighed and steeled his gaze, set his jaw, and turned to face Artemis head on, the lie slipping out coolly. “I didn’t meet this guy through work.”

She paused, lips pursed, eyes squinting in a way that told Dick his lie was convincing, but Artemis was unconvinced anyway. She didn’t press it again, though, instead sighing and finishing her breakfast with the occasional pouty glare or suspicious glance. It was about as worried as Artemis would ever let show. And boy, if that didn’t make Dick feel guilty.

“I’m not an idiot,” Dick said with a reassuring smile, after a few beats of pained silence. “I’m not going to do anything without for sure knowing he’s legit. Stranger danger and all that.”

Artemis just scoffed, muttering something about how, “he’s probably still a creep,” before rising to refill her coffee. Dick’s cell vibrated with Wally’s reply, but before he could open the message, something was chucked with impressive force at his chest. It fell into his lap with a crinkle.

“Ow,” Dick deadpanned, staring at the fortune cookie in his lap with confusion.

“You never ate yours last night,” Artemis said, waving her own, the cellophane crinkling loudly. “Eat it so I don’t feel bad about eating the extras.”

Dick bit his lip, smirking and rolling the thin film of cellophane from the cookie’s wrapper between his fingertips. Artemis seemed fairly focused on combining her cookie with her coffee, dipping it cautiously, when Dick sneaked a peak, not wanting to feel scrutinized again. She was nibbling absently on the cookie, and Dick would feel relieved that she was done being nosy, if he weren’t feeling so full of…something else. Something else that made him brim with confidence again and take advantage of the very obvious opening Wally left him.

 

**> You're breaking your teachers' hearts with that attitude :'(**

**< hey, don't think you can guilt me into being a better student!**

**< besides, there's only one teacher I really care about.**

 

It was bold, bordering on a line beyond flirtation, that was romantic even, and yet it didn’t even feel wrong. It wasn’t that Dick was naturally distrustful, because he wasn’t. It wasn’t that Dick hadn’t dated other people, or fallen for other people, because he had, but Wally was the first person he could picture being friends with as much as he could picture them being together. But Wally had to be at least five years older, if he was a teacher, he looked old enough, and for some people—for a lot of people—that was too much, to have both people on opposite ends of a life experience, Dick just starting school and a life and a career, Wally just settling into one. Dick’s chest tightened to know this could be over the second Wally saw his face.

But…they had a connection. That couldn’t even be denied, they liked talking to each other, and sex over the phone was still pretty damn intimate, and Wally kept calling, kept answering Dick’s calls…that wasn’t nothing…that would be _something_ to let go, even if Wally thought Dick was too young. He trusted him enough to send him his photo. That was something. It was another thing that Dick was maybe too scared to send Wally his own, but…

He could prolong this for now. Just a bit longer, before it all went to hell. Enjoy it while it lasts, right?

“What’d you get?” Artemis asked, sipping her coffee and reading off her own. “’It’s okay to treat yourself. It’s okay to eat dessert three times a week.’ Well, fuck yeah, it is.”

Dick cackled and the cellophane crinkled as he opened his own fortune, breaking the shell and nibbling on a piece. He never liked the cookie much, but for some reason, it felt like the fortune wouldn’t hold water if the cookie went ignored. He had to honor the fortune cookie. He hoped the fortune would be something silly, enough that he could send a picture of the little slip of paper to Wally that maybe included a flash of stomach or thigh…entirely by accident, of course, a good reply to the fucking _gem_ Wally sent him this morning. Instead, his mouth dropped open a touch, reading it with a skip in his heart rate because something as stupid as a fortune cookie shouldn’t make a _difference_.

_Never give up on someone that you don't go a day without thinking about._

Dick swallowed, jumping when his phone vibrated. Fucking dramatic timing, he thought, fucking dramatic fortune. He heard Artemis give an expectant, “Well?” but his phone buzzed and he couldn’t even answer her.

 

**well, teachers can't play favorites with students, but if you won't tell, i wont.. ;p**

 

If Dick sighed and bit his knuckle to mask his smile, Artemis didn’t comment. And if he decided that he maybe wanted to try and make this last longer than just for now, maybe tell Wally soon who he was, no one would have to know.

 

* * *

 

When Dick stumbled out of the shower, muscles aching pleasantly and feeling lighter than he had in ages, bobbing a little to the pop song playing from the T.V. in the living room, clothes were already waiting for him on his bed. Specifically, Dick’s tightest black pants and brightest, sheerest tee shirt were laid out expectantly, and…a tube of glitter gel.

What was this, 2001?

“Artemis, what the hell…?” he called, wiggling into some track pants instead and leaning against the door frame.

“We’re going out,” she said, convicted, like Dick had already agreed and was _so silly_ for forgetting.

“Why do I need glitter for that?” Dick asked as he toweled his hair, instead of arguing the fact. In all truth, he was still feeling exhilarated for how well things were going with Wally, riding a high of adrenaline and bliss, and school responsibilities were threatening to kill his chill. No better way to stave that off than going out, right?

“Need something to make you look pretty when you stand next to me,” Artemis explained, her grin wicked and wide. Dick threw his wet towel at her and she squealed, making a disgusted noise as she flung it away.

“Sorry, Art, no one’s gonna be looking at you while _my_ ass is in _those_ pants,” Dick chirped, darting behind his door before she could fling a pillow or remote his way. There was a thump that sounded like the wet towel and Dick cackled, Artemis’s growls of frustration muffled.

Dick settled into his desk chair, one of the few expensive pieces in the entire apartment. Bruce afforded him a modest allowance that Dick more or less tried to ignore; he made sure their rent was on time, but he and Artemis both worked and Dick left the money alone, out of his own hands.

If Dick wanted to be rich and comfortable, he would have stayed home, at the manor. He wouldn’t be at school, or training for the academy. If he wanted to take advantage of everything Bruce had, he wouldn’t do anything at all. But Dick wanted to do everything, and take advantage of no one. It’s part of the reason he worked the hotline; it paid moderately well, and it gave him a chance to read people, play actor for a bit.

 

** <megan still dragging you out to the clubs tonight?**

**< going out tonight too, pretty sure artemis thinks you're a stranger danger creep and wants to distract me haha**

**> But I am a stranger danger creep 8D nice red shirt**

**> And yes definitely going out. she's very convincing :(**

 

Dick bit at his lower a lip, a little guilty to throw that in, but flirtatious initiation would be nigh preferable to Wally asking him what club he was going to, leaving Dick with no choice but to lie (—or worse, actually tell him, and what if they ran into each other—) but, as Dick was learning was characteristic, Wally seemed more interested in Dick himself than where’s and other incriminating details. It wasn’t like Wally couldn’t Google ‘acrobat’ and ‘Gotham’ or—jeez, even ‘Dick’ and Gotham’ might bring up some of the articles Dick’s been featured in for Wayne events—and know exactly who Dick was, but if Wally had, he gave no hints.

Dick would go as far to say that Wally was intentionally affording Dick his privacy, more patient that Dick would ever had guessed the redhead could be. Wally was impatient about just everything (though his impatience when it came to sex was all the more likely due to the fact that Dick lived to tease him).

In turn, Dick never Googled teachers named Wally in the Gotham area. How many teachers named Wally could there be in these districts, anyway? And with Dick’s resources, Wayne Tech giving him access to more information than he would, or should, ever need…it would be all too easy. Easy, but still an invasion of privacy they hadn’t talked about, and Dick couldn’t even be tempted. He’d tell Wally when he was ready; Wally would tell him when he was ready.

If ever.

 

**< D: WHERE ARE YOU**

**< ha, just kidding. i'm not even wearing a shirt.**

**> Ew, yeah, put on a shirt, no one wants to see that beer belly!**

 

And--Oh, that was—beer belly, Dick wouldn't have none of that. Dick snickered and turned on his lamp, stretching out and snapping a picture of his torso, abs flexing, still sporting drops of water from his shower. Cliché in the best way; Dick couldn’t have even staged it this well if he tried.

There wasn’t anything to hint at Dick’s age or identity there; the picture barely even reached his chest, let alone his face, but it was still technically a photo of him, more tangible than anything else he’d given Wally, and he almost felt nervous. Almost. It was harmless. It was also marginally illicit. Or very. 

**> Christ, I wanna come on your abs**

Dick groaned, teeth digging into his lower lip as to not explode entirely with glee. He couldn’t even tell if the warm flush in his face was from the visual or the similar warmth curling in his stomach; did it even matter? He drew his knees up, feeling a little silly, but happy, happy, _horny_.

Dick physically ached, cock throbbing, and he sighed, slumping over his desk. They’d talked every day without fail since Wally called from his office and Dick gave him his real number, but they hadn’t _done_ anything since then, either too busy for anything but flirting, or too happy genuinely chatting to care…’til now, that is. Dick sighed again, squirming uncomfortably. Somewhere between taking the photo and the visual of Wally coming on his stomach, Dick had gone completely hard, rubbing against the soft fabric of his track pants.

 

**> Can I call?**

**< artemis is in the next room :(**

**> Darn :'( suppose I will just have to make do**

**< you read my mind ;D**

**> Why is the lube never where I left it??**

**< lube?!**

**> c;**

 

Dick’s pants were off and on to the floor in a matter of seconds, a pant leg still caught around one ankle as he splayed his legs and spat into his hand (licking was sexier, but he had no actual audience and Dick was already aching for some friction), spreading it around the tip of his cock with a shaky exhale. Sexting wasn’t anything new to him, but he hated not hearing Wally, not being able to know what he was doing without Wally’s mouth running, not being able to tease him without having to worry about something as stupid as typing. 

Well…never let it be said Dick couldn’t make do with what he was given.

 

**< let's see how many fingers you can take before you come.**

 

* * *

 

There were probably worse things Dick could do than use a fake to get into a club. There were definitely worse things potential and current _cops_ have done, especially in Gotham, so by the time he and Artemis had passed through the doors and were assaulted with pounding bass, the glimmer of guilt had disappeared. He wasn’t even going to drink, anyway. Probably. He squeezed Artemis’ hand, grinning as they passed through the crowd to find a place on the floor, ready to burn off some energy. They had friends somewhere in the club, but hello’s and the bar could wait. Dick’s pants were very tight and the music was very loud and it pounded from his feet through his chest and he needed to move, his body electric.

Dick deeply regretted not joining the gymnastics team at the semester’s start. Movement was his life source, always craving motion and action. It seemed stupid that he thought he’d be putting more focus on academics this year _. Pffft_. Maybe he should just run (back) to the circus. He missed the collective gasp of the crowd as he soared through the air, not a net in sight.

He rolled his hips languidly, body following the music without much of a thought. Not as impressive as a bar-to-bar somersault, but it still earned some glances his and Artemis’ way. If Dick’s dancing was effortless and languorous, Artemis’ was powerful and vigorous. Objectively, they were a pretty good looking pair. He smirked at her blissfully, watching her hair cascade and fly. He basically had the most gorgeous best friend in the world. _His_ best friend basically had the most gorgeous best friend in the world.

 

 

When the song faded out into a Beyoncé remix, he grabbed her hand again and steered them towards the bar, skin buzzing with energy. He all but crashed onto a stool, calling for two shots of tequila as Artemis’s hand flew to his arm, steadying him.

“You fucking spaz, we haven’t even started drinking yet,” she yelled over the music.

“What can I say? I love to dance!” Dick said, fingers fluttering in a comical spirit-fingers way. He was fully expecting the customary eye roll, but Artemis just laughed and yelled a thanks at the bartender when he passed them their glasses. “Cheers!”

In perfect unison, they took their shots and set the glasses back down with a forceful clack. Dick’s eyes were watering and Artemis shuddered, but they grinned at each other. It had been way too freaking long since they’d gone out, that’s for sure. Artemis called for two more shots, leaning into the crook of Dick’s neck to speak into his ear, rather than shout. He could still only hear every other word of hers, something about how Kaldur-the-tattooed-hottie-from-Psych was there, but Dick had stopped listening the second he glanced up to take their second round, his heart all of a sudden hammering against his ribs. He might not have even noticed the man across the bar, were he not talking animatedly, arms gesturing wildly and mouth looking like it were going a hundred miles an hour. Bright red hair, brought to a nearly effervescent gold in the lights of the club, with so many freckles that Dick could actually see them from where he sat.

He elbowed Artemis sharply. “Holy shit. Artie, look. Across the bar. That redheaded guy.”

Artemis peered, chin resting on Dick’s shoulder. “Cute, I guess. What about him? Gonna go work him over? You could probably just get away with wiggling your butt in his general—“

“No, that’s him, that’s the guy, that’s _Wally_ ,” Dick said, his voice caught in a staccato rush. It’s possible he actually hadn’t breathed since he saw him and—oh, Wally just laughed, head thrown back and face going red and he was breathtaking—literally—Dick felt like he was soaring when he inhaled next, though it was likely more from the alcohol than an actual lack of air. Or Wally was just that beautiful. He couldn’t stop staring, probably wouldn’t ‘til Wally noticed him, but he wouldn’t, would he? Wally didn’t know what he looked like. Their eyes would meet, and Wally wouldn’t know him, wouldn’t remember his face later. Artemis squeezed his arm, nudging the shot glass into his hand.

“Stop freaking out.”

“I’m not,” Dick insisted, throwing his head back, the shot going down smooth this time.

“Yeah? So, the dude exists, he’s hot, he’s obviously not some 40 year old creep. Go get him,” Artemis took her second shot, relaxing against the bar and added with a small smirk, “Tiger.”

Dick balked at her. Glanced at Wally, but he was moving back onto the dance floor, pushing what was possibly the buffest man Dick had ever seen, with the help of an auburn haired girl. The girl was probably Megan, he knew that, he knew she was dating someone (probably the buff guy) but Wally had his hand on her waist and Dick couldn’t stop the pang of jealousy if he tried. “Nah.”

Artemis gave him a disapproving look, lip curling up in disbelief. “Okay, fine. But not now. Later.”

He didn’t want to think about how Wally was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen—actually _seen_ , now, wow—or how he sounds when he comes, or how he didn’t sound the least reproachful when Dick told him he was dropping out after the semester, how Wally complained about his job but raved about how proud he is of his team in the same breath. He didn’t want to think about Wally’s face when he finds out the person he’d been opening up to—practically having sex with— is a 20 year old college student.

Dick didn’t want to think.

He just moved, the alcohol burning through his blood now, minding less and less when strange hands curved along the contours of his body, just focusing on dancing and the music, letting his mind go.

He wasn’t sure when he’d lost Artemis in the crowd, or if she’d found someone she knew and ditched him. He didn’t care too much; he could see Wally again, dancing with decidedly less finesse than most people in the club, but he was enthusiastic, joyful, not even seeming to care that his friends were thoroughly tangled up in each other, like he wasn’t even there.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

Dick contemplated the likelihood of Wally recognizing his voice over the music as he wove through the crowd, eyes trained on Wally’s red hair as to not lose him. He could tell at a distance that he was shorter than Wally, if only by an inch or two, that Wally was flushed down his chest and maybe Dick had imagined it so many times, but it seemed so familiar, so Wally.

So, sliding a hand across Wally’s shoulder and flashing him a dazzling smirk as he moved into him to the beat of the music was not exactly how Dick had pictured meeting Wally (but did this even count, if Wally didn’t know who he was?), but then Wally’s surprise that Dick—no, that a _stranger_ —was moving in on him faded into a grin, Dick couldn’t care.

“Hey,” he said, knowing his voice wouldn’t carry but his lips would be read easily. Wally laughed, and yeah, it was probably a little silly to say hey when in most scenarios, there would probably already be grinding.

So Dick waggled his eyebrows and rolled his hips obscenely in Wally’s direction, and god, Dick wished he could hear Wally laugh, but the foot of space between them was too far to hear, too far, period. Dick very nearly melted when Wally’s hand came to his waist, pulling them closer. Really, his knees were jelly, and Wally danced fast with a manic joy but it was contagious and Dick could feel how warm Wally’s skin was just from the hand on his waist, holy shit, he could _feel_ Wally, didn’t just know his smile from a photo but could watch Wally’s lips move as that smile shifted, amused to coy and back.

Jesus, Wally didn’t even know it was him.

Dick’s brain felt like a ping pong ball, ratcheting back and forth between Wally’s smile and warmth and fingers, and the fact that Wally had _no idea_ he was dancing with Dick.

And Dick didn’t even know how badly he wanted to say Wally’s name, every time their eyes met, and—wow, that would probably be pretty creepy, actually, if Dick moaned Wally’s name.

Pretty creepy in general that Dick knew he was dancing with Wally but Wally didn’t know he was dancing with Dick, actually, and—oh. Somehow, they’d ended up front to back, the curve of Dick’s ass brushing against the heat of Wally’s crotch and Jesus, these pants left nothing to the imagination, did they?

It took every ounce of self-control not to moan Wally’s name as his hands spanned Dick’s hips, head falling back against Wally’s shoulder. He could feel Wally grinning against his temple, his fingers tightening around the curves of Dick’s hip bones, fuck, Wally could leave bruises there, if he wanted, driving into Dick deep and fast—

“Is this okay?”

Dick nearly jumped, Wally’s voice was so low in his ear, his breath hot, and it took a moment to even figure out what he was referring to, but now it seemed impossible for Dick to have missed Wally’s hard-on brushing between his cheeks, two layers of paper thin denim far from enough to obscure it. Dick’s breath caught, and he arched back into Wally, hips grinding back into his cock in reply. “Fuck, yeah.”

He threw Wally a smirk over his shoulder, and Wally’s grin had faded slightly at some point, expression turning hazy and hair falling into his eyes. Dick wanted to touch it. He wanted to tell Wally who he was, but that could wait, couldn’t it? For a time when Wally’s broad hand wasn’t inching under his shirt, when he wasn’t shuddering against Dick because he’d reached back to grip that flaming hair?

His fingers were warm when they traced the curves of Dick’s abs, welcoming and sure and Dick melted, arching back with a good tug of the hair at the nape of Wally’s neck.

All the whispers and words and conversations couldn’t have prepared Dick for how it would actually feel when Wally moaned in his ear, actually _moaned in his ear_ , breath ticklish and making him shudder, how it would feel when Wally’s hands were on him and being able to look in his eyes when…

Ah, wait. Dick was facing the wrong way for that—well, not the wrong way, it was certainly a _good_ way, being able to rub back against Wally’s cock, fevered and teasing, but it was the wrong way to— _there we go._ His features were cast half in shadow, the lights around them flashing at random intervals of purple and yellow. It made it harder to see, easier to hide a little. Buying time. Time Dick wanted to use very wisely, drinking in the way Wally was smiling at him, like he couldn’t be having more fun if he tried. Dick’s initial smirk was fading, too enamored, too happy to try to be anything but that, looping his arms around Wally’s shoulders. They were broader than he imagined, broad for a runner. Wally’s cheeks were so very pink, his lips were pink, his _ears_ were pink. Dick wanted to bite them.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked instead, taking advantage of the brief lull in between songs, just before the crowd erupted into cheers because One Direction’s new single started playing with full force. Wally was glancing about and back to Dick with hesitation, so Dick grasped his hand and led them out of the crowd. They had all started jumping and screaming instead of dancing, anyway.

The bar was lit better, far enough away that you could hear yourself think. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Wally’s face, and Dick wiped it away without thinking. Wally had looked moderately concerned up until that point, eyes a little wide and smiling without energy, with apprehension. Dick assumed it was from the avid fan reaction back on the dance floor, but when his thumb swiped across Wally’s cheek bone, Wally’s eyes refocused and went soft and he put an arm around Dick’s waist.

“Are you even old enough to buy me a drink?” he asked, teasing. Dick stiffened, the words registering slowly but impacting him in an instant. Wally got eye crinkles when he smiled like that, and it made something flutter in Dick’s chest. Wally’s face was very distracting. Dick swallowed, tongue running along his teeth with a critical raise of his brows, but Wally still looked expectant. Not judgmental, really, but…

“Can I get two melon balls?” Dick asked, pulling away from Wally to sit on one of the barstools when the bartender came their way. He remembered that Wally said he liked fruity flavored anything—which, frankly, covered a lot of things, but was still his favorite—and then handed the glass to Wally, trying not to look very smug. Or nervous. Both?

“Technically, no,” Dick said at last, taking his shot before trying to read Wally’s reaction, but he looked fairly impassive. Not judging, just…like it’d confirmed what Wally was thinking. Like he knew the answer before he asked. Dick sighed and Wally took his shot, and by the time he’d set his glass on the counter, Dick was running a hand nervously through his hair. No going back now. “Look, this is Gotham, no one’s coming to arrest me. I’m a big boy, alright?”

The apprehension on Wally’s face crested, and then fell into an easy smile. “Alright. You can’t blame a guy for worrying, though. It _is_ Gotham,” Wally conceded, reaching for Dick’s waist again. Dick leaned into it, and Wally nuzzled his nose in Dick’s hair. He felt his face heat up, a smile stretching unbidden across his face. “A guy cute as you, I do a hell of a lot more than worry.”

He pulled back so he could look at Dick, raising a brow. “If you know what I mean.” Brows wiggled.

Dick burst out into a cackle, pushing against Wally’s chest. “You sure you don’t want to add a wink, make sure I catch your drift?”

“Ah, but if only I _could_ wink,” Wally laughed, his cheeks turning pink again, and Dick was suddenly a little more aware of the effect three shots was having on him. He didn’t usually turn red like Wally (he wasn’t sure _anyone_ turned as red as Wally, he would be amicable to laying Wally out on his bed to see if they could break some sort of record), but his body felt like it was running too hot, Wally’s hand was hot on his hip. Dick kept leaning into him, maybe a little unsteady on his feet, more of an excuse to feel Wally’s body against his more than he already was. Wally had such a nice mouth. Dick wasn’t really aware he was staring until Wally laughed and hip-checked him. Dick startled and glanced back up and—shit, Wally’s eyes were so green. So green, crinkling with a smile, smiling like Dick was the best thing he ever saw.

“My name’s Dick,” he blurted. _My name, my real name._

Wally’s eyes widened slightly, just slightly, smile unwavering and growing impossibly big, and, like Wally was trying to contain it, Wally bit his lip, shaking his head. Dick’s stomach was flipping on a constant loop, ready for the ball to drop because Wally was definitely acting crazy, definitely shouldn’t be smiling about this and pulling Dick close, chest to chest—

“You sure you don’t mean Robin?” he said at last, grinning and quiet but they were so close, it didn’t matter, Dick could see how gold Wally’s lashes are, all the freckles all over his face. Their noses brushed, Wally’s fingers twitching against his back. “I know your voice,” he said, even quieter. “I knew…”

He trailed off, like he was about to say something else, but instead closed the space between them with a kiss, just a soft pressure, soft lips, sweet and exploratory but lacking any hesitation, not when Wally slipped his tongue against Dick’s, not when he linked his arms at the small of Dick’s back, to hold him tight against him. Dick eased into it without a thought, the feeling of Wally’s lips and knowing Wally knew who he was completely overshadowing any shock, any hesitation. Wally’s lips were a little chapped, and Dick wanted to kiss him until they were red and worked smooth again. Wally nudged at Dick’s knees gently, til they parted and he could stand between them. When he moaned, it was lost in the noise of the club, but Dick could feel it, Wally going breathless as their hips bumped. Dick wondered if it would be totally inappropriate if he wrapped his knees around Wally’s waist...wondered if he could later.

 

 

Wally actually pouted a bit when Dick pulled away, inching closer and rubbing against him. Dick cackled and arched back, just to see Wally’s reaction (laughing bashfully, eyes falling shut for a moment, maybe even giving a moan but the club was deafening). He reached for Wally’s hair, gripping it firm at the base of his neck to pull him in. Wally pursed his lips, expecting another kiss, and Dick smirked, moving to speak into Wally’s ear.

“We can go to mine,” he said, and, remembering that he wanted to nibble Wally’s ear before. They really were pink, and Dick licked the shell of it, giggling when Wally jerked against him, and, yep—he could definitely hear him moan that time. Ears are sensitive, noted.

“Okay,” Wally just said, hands sliding lower to Dick backside to pull him off the barstool. Dick gave in easily to the manhandling; it felt natural with Wally, to be dancing goofily one moment and getting all up on each other the next. It shouldn’t have felt surprising, Dick thought as Wally led them out of the club, considering their phone calls were more or less the same. It was more of a relief, a happy realization, to find out it’s as real as Dick hoped.

“I didn’t think you’d want to bother meeting my friends right now,” Wally explained, pulling out his phone (to text them where he’d gone, Dick assumed, and he pulled out his cell to do the same, shooting Artemis a semi-coherent text). “Frankly, I don’t wanna bother introducing you right now.”

“At least your friends are nice, probably,” Dick laughed, wrapping an arm around Wally’s waist. It made their gait slow and disjointed, but Dick didn’t mind, liked that because Wally was taller, and an even bigger dork in person, he nuzzled at Dick’s hair whenever he got the chance. “Artemis gives everyone a hard time, so we wanna put that off.”

Dick stopped short even as the words came out of his mouth, Wally stopping with him instead of letting go, and giving him an inquisitive look. Dick stuttered. “I mean, like—assuming you want to stay over or like—hang out after—tonight.”

“I’m like, 98% sure I want to see you after tonight, Rob,” Wally said with an easy smile the widened when Dick smiled at the ground. So, so gone. “So, the nickname. Where’s that come from?”

“Childhood nickname,” Dick said, turning them around the corner. He and Artemis lived just off campus and not far from the club, so even tipsy, it wasn’t a far walk. “I was born on the first of spring so my mom would call me her little Robin, and it still stuck when Bruce took me in. So, what’s making you 2% unsure?”

Wally scrunched his nose at him, not unlike a puppy trying to growl but is really just playing. Which was ridiculous. Because Wally was a fairly manly dude, and Dick was not the sappiest person, but Wally had so many quirks about him that Dick just found entirely adorable. It made him want to kiss that scrunched nose, and also maybe suck Wally off.

Speaking of. Front door approaching.

“I dunno. You could still decide you don’t like me,” Wally said in a low voice, steady and measured and so unlike his usual repartee that Dick stopped fumbling with his key to turn and lean into Wally, nuzzling at his jaw with ticklish kisses until Wally started leaning into him, a soft noise escaping him.

“No risk of that,” he murmured at last, letting them inside, and suddenly, he felt a little drunk again—he only had three shots, but he was stumbling through the doorway, a hand hooked on the waistband of Wally’s jeans. Deciding that the bedroom was much too far, Dick stepped into Wally’s space, backing him against the wall and sinking to his knees. Wally’s surprised exhale of, “oh,” coincided with Dick whisper of, “Can I?” and Wally was nodding, smiling, one hand reaching hesitantly for Dick’s shoulder.

Shit. Shit, this is really happening. Dick hoped he didn’t look too much like a kid at Christmas when he glanced up, and Wally’s eyes weren’t as apple green before, gone dark and lidded with want.

Dick always thought that when it would come down to it, he’d want to take his time with Wally, tease him and make him wait and make him squirm, but he knew there’d be time for it later, time and time again, and Wally was so lovely and so responsive, hips thrusting shallowly when Dick pressed his palm to Wally’s clothed dick, kissing around it. His pants were, blessedly, looser than Dicks own (they were already growing uncomfortable, but Dick had had too many fantasies about this exact moment to care) and Dick was able to tug them down in one motion, boxers and all.

Wally actually had _freckles_ on his cock, and Dick’s brain was definitely short circuiting, because he couldn’t do anything but stare; Wally was thick, and Dick knew his strengths, he knew how he’d look with his mouth stretched around that, but he also really, really wanted to kiss every freckle on Wally’s dick. He licked the dribble of precum from the tip of his cock instead, and Wally let out a shaky breath, like he was holding it. “Tease me later, Dick, please.”

Dick curled his tongue around the tip, lingering just to feel Wally shudder, before meeting Wally’s eyes. “Been thinking about this a while?”

Wally chuckled and nodded, and it was funny how red and bashful he kept getting over certain things. Just to make things clear, though. Dick smirked. “Me too.”

And he kissed his way along the side of Wally’s cock, paying special attention to the occasional freckle, sloppy and dirty ‘til Wally was wet enough to slide between Dick’s lips with ease, ‘til he brushed the back of his throat. Wally gave a low whimper as Dick’s tongue fluttered along his length, the pressure inconsistent and maddening. His chest was heaving, breath coming hard, before Dick had even started bobbing his head, sucking the tip as he pulled back.

“Fuck, your mouth,” Wally moaned, head lolling back against the wall. Dick hummed, shutting his eyes and leaning forward, taking Wally in inch by inch and swallowing around him. The weight of Wally in his mouth, feeling him in his throat and the taste of him still on his tongue, it was overwhelming, but it didn’t compare to the feeling Dick got from knowing that the held-back, rapid moans and breaths meant Wally was close. Familiar from their phone calls, familiar now, and nothing felt more real and more amazing than that. Dick’s chest felt like it was three sizes too small, warm and tight. He pulled back, gasping with the head of Wally’s dick still between his lips, needing a moment for reasons more than just oxygen. When he felt Wally’s warm, trembling hand on his cheek, brushing his bangs behind his ear and resting there, fingers tangled in the strands, he opened his eyes again. Wally looked nearly reverent, body loose and cheeks flushed, watching Dick closely, patient and desperate all at once.

He smirked and pursed his lips around the tip of Wally’s cock, tonguing the slit. Wally outright whined, fingers tightening in Dick’s hair and shaking, like it was all he could do not to thrust between Dick’s lips. “Dick—Dick—“

Dick sucked as he took Wally further into his mouth, tongue pressing up under the head and eyes watering as Wally pulled on his hair, a warning, but he couldn’t even imagine pulling off now, why would he _want_ to, he could feel Wally’s cock pulse against his tongue and Dick moaned and Wally was coming, shuddering and giving a wretched moan that had Dick’s cock twitching as he swallowed.

Wally sank down the wall like his strings had been cut, eyes hazy and hands clumsy as he reached for Dick, pulling him in for a kiss. He licked into Dick’s mouth hungrily, and Dick hadn’t felt needy until now, but he felt needy, like he needed Wally’s mouth and hands and voice. Wally’s hands ran up his thighs and he whined, rolling his hips into the touch and huffing when Wally’s lips curled into a smile. “Knew you’d go wild for that.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Dick giggled, more breathless than anything. Wally nosed at his throat, pressing hot, damp kisses that had Dick scrabbling at Wally’s shirt, distracting him from the fact that Wally was hooking his elbows under his knees and lifting and—whoa, dizzy. Dick chuckled, holding on tight. “Bedroom’s down the hall and on the left.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Wally grinned. He walked slowly, the apartment dim and Dick heavy and maybe feeling a little tipsy still. Dick burrowed his face in the crook of Wally’s neck, sucking a hickey into the skin there. By the time they reached his bed, they were both a little giggly and very much breathless. Dick stretched across the bed to turn on his bedside lamp, chuckling when he felt Wally tugging on his jeans. “For fuck’s sake, are these painted on?”

“More or less,” Dick grunted as he wiggled and helped peel off his jeans. At last, they were able to pull them off with a sound not unlike the husk ripping off the cob, and Dick huffed in relief, tearing his shirt off before falling back onto the bed next to Wally. He tugged at the hem of Wally’s shirt. “Off.”

Wally complied with a grin. The haziness of afterglow seemed to dissipate quickly, Wally looked eager and excited and like he wanted to _eat_ Dick, teeth worrying at his lower lip as he inched down Dick’s body, rolling his fingers over Dick’s cock. Dick’s breath caught in his throat; he hadn’t gotten much softer on the way to the bedroom, and he’d been wanting for so long, since they moved against each other on the dance floor, and Wally’s touch on his cock, even over cotton, was electric. Wally pulled his boxers down, too, laying on his front between Dick’s legs and just taking Dick’s cock in his hand, fingers pressing teasingly against the tip. He was flushed from his ears to his cheeks and down his chest, a lovely shade of rose that made his freckles stand out, his eyes seeming to glow, fluttering up at Dick and focusing on him in a way that made Dick feel like the center of Wally’s world.

“Can I finger you while I suck you off?” Wally asked, squeezing Dick’s cock. This time, Dick swore out loud, his voice rough.

“Fuck, yes, Wally, please,” and he was scrambling to grab his lube from the bedside drawer before he finished talking. Wally gave him a smiley kiss as he leaned up for the lube, settling back to where he was before. Dick parted his knees more, and Wally hooked one arm around one, hand holding his hip firm, grounding. He looked strangely focused as he slicked his fingers, nuzzling kisses into Dick’s thigh with a serious look.

“Let me know if it hurts, or like, if I go too fast, okay?” he said, circling a fingertip around the rim. He looked a little nervous, flushed, and Dick gave him a reassuring smile, rolling his hips into the touch.

“You won’t, Wally. I trust you,” he said, and Wally smiled back, relief rushing back into both of them. Dick wiggled, spreading his knees obscenely far apart, using his flexibility to his advantage. “Now for god’s sake, make me come.”

Wally nipped the inside of his knee, hard enough to make Dick squeak, and moaning in surprise as Wally laved his tongue over it, hot and soothing, and then he was pressing a finger inside. Dick exhaled and relaxed, practically drawing Wally’s finger in further as he pushed it in up to the knuckle, eyes fluttering closed as Wally wiggled it slowly, stretching him gently. “God, you’re gorgeous, Dick.”

Dick whined at that, preening at the praise but absolutely mindless at how full he felt with just one of Wally’s fingers, rolling his hips and trying to make that stretch greater. Wally felt so close, so warm, so beautiful, lowering to lick along Dick’s cock before he nudged a second finger in beside the first. When he started thrusting them, twisting them a little each time they pulled out, Dick moaned, panting heavily. Wally’s lips were so soft on his cock, just teasing, and it wasn’t fair.

“Wally, plea—“ and Wally’s fingers curled near his prostate and then they were pressing right on it, and Dick moaned brokenly, hands twisting in the sheets. He could feel Wally’s lips curl into a smile against his cock, the little shit, and god, if Dick wasn’t gagging for it. His cock pulsed, precum dribbling onto his abs, and Wally seemed to be hoping for this reaction ‘cus he lapped it up with a moan, thrusting his fingers steadily against Dick’s spot. Dick writhed, heat building in his core, growing closer and closer to his orgasm each time Wally’s tongue curled around his tip. He wasn’t even blowing him, technically, and Dick was already so close, knowing the second Wally took him in his mouth, he’d be coming. He’d been worked up for far too long, panting heavily and unable to stay still.

“Gorgeous,” Wally said again, just a whisper that made Dick shiver, ready to beg, anything, and then Wally was wrapping his lips around his tip and sucking, pressing his thumb to Dick’s perineum and it was so much, too much, and he came with a keen, voice breaking as he shuddered through it, Wally unrelenting ‘til the end. He pulled his fingers out slowly, twisting them and the sensation making Dick whine, oversensitive and spent. Wally was kissing up along his chest, settling beside Dick and even now, hazy and buzzing, it sent a jolt through Dick to see Wally was hard again, a hand around himself. He grabbed Wally’s hair, tugging him in for a kiss, sloppy and hurried and smiling blissfully when Wally gasped and came into his hand. He sank into Dick’s side, nosing at his shoulder. Dick wrapped an arm around him, reaching across for the tissues on the bedside table to wipe them clean.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, and Wally glanced at him sleepily before smiling, remembering. Dick toed the blanket at the end of the bed (which was half hanging off from their escapade) and pulled it over them, snuggling close murmuring, “Gorgeous, gorgeous, Wally.”

They ended up falling asleep with Wally’s head pillowed on Dick’s chest and Dick wrapped up tightly around him, feeling close and happy and perfect.

 

* * *

 

Waking up the next morning was marginally less perfect.

For one, Dick was freezing, and it took him a moment to realize it was because he was only covered by the thin blanket, and even longer to realize _Wally wasn’t there_.

He jolted up and immediately regretted it, head pounding. He was probably getting old, if three shots gave him a hangover, if slight, but at least he didn’t feel nauseous. He rubbed his eyes, glancing around and taking note of the clothes thrown haphazardly around his room. Seeing Wally’s t-shirt still among them, he relaxed, laying back down for a moment, curling up in the blanket. He thought he smelled coffee, and figured that was explanation enough for where Wally’d gone. He got up and dug in his drawer for his softest sweatpants, pulling them on and feeling cozy and—yep, he could definitely feel a dull ache from when Wally fingered him last night. _Mmm_.

“Nooo, get back into bed,” he heard behind him, and he turned to see Wally, shirtless and just in his boxers, bearing two mugs of coffee. “I was hoping to wake you up with breakfast, but you have nothing to make in your kitchen. So, coffee?”

“Coffee,” Dick agreed happily, climbing back into bed and taking one of the mugs from Wally. He set it down on the bedside table for now, sidling up to Wally instead. “Morning.”

He hesitated slightly before giving Wally a peck on the cheek. As wonderful as last night was, as blissfully awesome it was for Wally to still be here and give him coffee, he wasn’t sure where they really stood right now. Wally just smiled brightly—sleepily, but still wide and so wholeheartedly happy—and gave him a light kiss. “Morning. So, I know you just woke up, but I think we need to talk. No, no, not like that—“ he laughed at Dick’s stricken face. “I really like you, Dick. As long as you don’t, I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

Dick smirked and swung his legs over Wally's lap, scooching in close. “I was that good a lay, huh?”

“More than that,” Wally said without a beat. Dick—

Dick’s heart actually fluttered. He didn’t know that could happen. His heart was pounding, and he had the most beautiful man in the world in his bed. Who made him coffee, and seemed perfectly content to just have his coffee while Dick sat in his lap. Wally may actually be perfect.

Scratch that. They were perfect.

“I guess first thing is that—well, you know my full name and age and all that. And I didn’t want to pester you for yours because I kind of had a feeling you were young and couldn’t know for sure who I was—well, actually, you probably could have Googled me—but still, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable ‘cus I figured, if you had the job at the hotline, you wouldn’t be some kid. And you weren’t. Obviously,” Wally said, self-consciously raising a hand to ruffle at his hair.

“I’m 20,” Dick said slowly. Wally’s face looked impassive, just nodding. “Okay.”

Dick exhaled, and must have looked relieved, maybe looked terrified before this. Wally stopped playing with his own hair and moved to play with Dick’s instead, brushing sleep tangled out with his fingers. “Seriously, it’s okay.”

“Is it still okay if I told you I’m Dick Grayson? Like…Bruce Wayne’s ward and heir, Dick Grayson?”

Wally’s hand stilled, eyes going wide. “Shut the fuck up. Are you—are you really?”

Dick chuckled and nodded, and Wally threw his head back groaning. “How did I not know that?”

Dick laughed even harder, forehead resting against Wally’s shoulder as his body shook with laughter. “You know—I don’t know—I feel like—it’s a miracle—are you sure you’re gonna get your PhD?”

Wally smacked his shoulder with a, “Heeeey,” but he laughed all the same, both of them shaking with the effort not to spill their coffees. When Dick lifted his head at last, face red, Wally gave him a soft kiss, chaste and small and tasting like the hazelnut creamer in his coffee. Figures Wally would see that in the fridge and go for it. Sweet that he remembered Dick liked his plain. He had to kiss Wally again for that, just as soft and no less smiley.

“I have to head back to the library and get some actual research done today, but later,” Wally said, sipping his coffee and placing a warm, broad hand on Dick’s waist. “We should meet up for lunch.”

Dick smirked into his coffee. “Like a date?”

“Well, not like. Definitely a date,” Wally grinned. “Figured we should do something like that. I hear normal people actually go on dates when they date.”

“Yeah, normal might be good,” Dick said. He was smiling so widely, his face probably looked like it was going to crack in half. Wally kind of looked the same. God, they were gross. “Considering, like…the circumstances of how we met.”

He waggled his brows, entirely unnecessary, but Wally laughed anyway, squeezing his hip. Dick squirmed, not really horny, just liking how Wally’s thighs felt under his butt. Nice, strong runner’s thighs, and freckled, to boot. Dick possibly had a thing for Wally’s freckles.

Well, definitely. The warmth of the coffee was turning Wally’s cheeks pink—it happened so easily, made his eyes so bright and freckles so clear.

He knew that whenever Wally was gone, whenever they were apart and whenever Dick closed his eyes, he was going to see them, splayed out across the expanse of his vision like stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can reblog the picspam for the fic [here](http://codyart.tumblr.com/post/99663810778/call-me-any-any-time-explicit-19k-completed) and the endpic [here](http://codyart.tumblr.com/post/99787099513/the-end-pic-from-the-fic-i-decided-i-like-it). 
> 
> [fayekohara](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fayekohara/pseuds/fayekohara) has translated this fic into Chinese : ) [read here!](http://www.movietvslash.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=140807&extra=page%3D1%26filter%3Dtypeid%26typeid%3D21%26typeid%3D21)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! xox kudo's and comments are a creator's food! ;D
> 
> [find me here](https://twitter.com/shortprints) or on [tumblr!](shortprints.tumblr.com)


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